


Veni, Vidi, Flevi

by writeranthea



Category: Original Work
Genre: (holy fuck that's an actual tag???), Aftercare, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Latin Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: “Well, I would have waited until we’re home,” Lars unceremoniously stated as he, with not much struggle, forced the younger man to stand up from his chair, “but you’ve just proven to me that you are in need of a sore reminder until you get home tonight, baby.”





	Veni, Vidi, Flevi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwanFloatieKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/gifts), [just_here_to_read](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_here_to_read/gifts).



> For Melian12, because she's the one that actually inspired me to add a bit of Latin into the mix and deserves a gift for being the awesome person that she is xD<3 For just_here_to_read, who helped me through my writer's block <3
> 
> I typed this on my phone during my stay in Vienna just to get some of the smut out of my head, so please excuse me if there are more mistakes than usual. 
> 
> This is actually inspired by a pair of real lecturers from my uni who supposedly "hate" each other - we're suspecting that they're lowkey a thing, which is where the idea for the story came from. Oh, and if you happen to known me in real life: don't _ever_ mention this to me in public or I'll die, thank you! xD
> 
> A/N: I posted this story on AO3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.

Philipp tried not to sigh in annoyance when he had heard someone knocking at the door of his office. He had just finished holding a seminar, which had been an especially nerve-racking one, and had retreated to his office to work on the translation of a medieval Spanish prayer text that he had started the other day and on which he would need to concentrate on. It also wasn’t his consultation hour, so being disturbed had been twice as annoying as it would’ve been anyway. 

He removed his reading glasses rather zestfully and almost threw them down onto the table in front of him, trying to not sound annoyed when he answered with a “Yes” after taking a big sip from his coffee. It could be a first-year student that didn’t know any better, after all, and scaring them off wasn't on his agenda.

To his surprise, though, it wasn’t the student he expected who had opened the door - it was Lars. Philipp couldn’t stop his heart from somersaulting in his chest; they’ve been seeing each other for a while now, though for how long exactly he didn’t really know, and he still found himself to be stunned at the looks of the older man. His colleague, his friend, his lover. Lars wore one of the white an tight-fitting dress shirts that he was known and loved for by his students, as it had been see-through just enough to allow a hint of his tattooed upper arms be visible while still appropriate for his job, and he had paired it with a dark jeans. _My God_ , Philipp thought, feeling his face warming up, _he looked so good_.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could’ve said anything he was already silenced by Lars, who threw the door close behind him instead of closing it like a regular person would’ve done it, strong enough to make the door frame rattle and Philipp wince.

“So, since you’ve not been willing to do it over the phone: would you be so _gracious_ enough and explain to me what that was about?”

Lars’ voice was low and cutting and so much more intimidating than if he would’ve raised it to yell, and the older man put the stack of books he was carrying under one arm down onto the small side table before he strode over to Philipp’s table, slammed his hands on its top and leaned over until his face came _very_ close to the younger’s, and Philipp shrunk a bit in his chair, it was obvious that had angered the other, though what he had done to trigger such an outburst, he really didn’t know.

Or maybe he told himself that. He caught himself and sat up more straight, protruding his chest and pushing his chair back to be able to look at Lars from a distance. “Well,” he said with his typical, almost innocent smile present, “would _you_ be so kind and tell me what I did? It really couldn’t have been that important as I don’t know about it.”

The two men looked at each other, Lars with narrowed eyes while Philipp’s were touched by creases of his wide, innocent smile. They knew that most student suspected that they actually hated each other, though where they’ve gotten that impression from neither of them knew. Many were sure that they couldn’t stand each other, or rather that Lars couldn’t stand Philipp for his persona.

No one needed to know about what had evolved between them ever since the night of the history faculty’s drinking event, after they had stole themselves off into an empty lecture hall. It was their well protected secret.

Philipp’s initial confidence about been able to turn the situation around for his advantage had seeped away, however, when Lars’ eyes narrowed even further as he stared him down.

 _He knew that look_. 

“You already stepped over the line once today, boy. Don’t test me further.”

Maybe it was the voice that Lars adresssed him with, or the use of “boy” which caused Philipp’s face to heat up a bit more, as latter was the signal that made it very clear as to where Lars was planning to go with this... conversation.

 _Fuck_. “I don’t know what I did wrong!” It sounded more like an accusation than a normal answer, and the younger winced when his short outburst was merely answered with the cocking on an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” he repeated with much less bite behind his words, though the older turned out to not be satisfied with it either.

“Philipp.” 

Oh, now it was the younger who had enough, much like Lars had when he had came storming into his office, and he slammed his palm onto the table top in a very similar manner, making the picture frames that stood on it rattle. “The fuck do you want, I don’t -”

“Ah, don’t do it, boy.”

Philipp could hear the blood rushing in his ears, though why he was getting angry so fast over something so trivial was not to his awareness. “You know what, fuck this. If you’re only going to waste my time you can very well leave, there’s a lot of work for me to do. We can talk at home,” he pointed towards the door. “Leave me the hell alone, Lars.”

He was foolish enough to believe that Lars would actually do as he said, and he froze when he was about to reach out for the text that he had to translate and found his upper arm to be captured in an iron hold.

“Well, I would have waited until we’re home,” Lars unceremoniously stated as he, with not much struggle, forced the younger man to stand up from his chair, “but you’ve just proven to me that you are in need of a sore reminder until you get home tonight, baby.” 

_Fuck_. The hot rush that had rolled through Philipp’s body like a tsunami caused goosebumps to break out on his entire body, and he watched, with wide eyes and an opened mouth, how Lars let go of his arm to move across the room and sit down in the center of the couch that stood between the two bookshelves of his office.

“No.”

Lars, once more, cocked an eyebrow at him and spread his legs apart, laying his right hand onto his left thigh, drumming his fingers in a tale-telling an unmistakable manner. “Come,” the older man said, beckoning Philipp over to him and the latter felt the familiar weight of dread settle down in the pit of his stomach when he stared at Lars as if he had just grown another head. “Don’t make me stand back up and fetch you, brat. You know that it’ll only mean extra.”

“But -”

“One, Philipp.”

He actually let out a whiny sound of disagreement; he hated being counted at. But yet he stood his ground, not thinking about how foolish it could actually be. He tried to argue again, “But -”

“Two.”

“Not here! Please, not here! Don’t... do that here,” Philipp whined, shifting from foot to foot and feeling very much uncomfortable being stared down like he currently was. He never would’ve though that there existed such a side of Lars, and unfortunately for him, the older had mastered it.

The stern creases on Lars’ face eased out, though for no longer than a few second before they shifted back to sterness. “You should have thought about that earlier, boy. Now come or I will stand up, go to my office and get the -”

Lars didn’t need to speak further to have Philipp gasp softly, the younger then moving towards him reluctantly and with shuffling of his feet. Philipp still didn’t know what he’d done wrong - _you do, stop playing_ \- and the prospect of getting a spanking in his office, in _public_ wasn’t one that he especially looked forward to. 

He was sure that his knees were pretty much reduced to nothing but a wobbly mess as he stood at Lars’s side, his chin on his chest, and the older man’s hands came up to open his belt, unbutton his trousers and open the fly, pulling them down to his until they pooled around his knees in two hard, skilled tugs. “Do you have to do it here?” He whined; he knew that he was grasping at straws, but he simply had to try and worm his way out of this.

“Yes,” Lars merely answered, his tone leaving no room for compromising whatsoever, putting both hands onto Philipp’s waist. “I wanted to wait until tonight, but you obviously can’t. So I’ll spank you now and I’ll spank you again when you come home after work, baby.”

 _Fuck._ Tears shot into the younger man’s eyes, and he wasn’t even bend over Lars’ lap yet. He didn’t put up a fight, wisely so, when Lars used the hold he had on his waist to first move him to stand between his legs before drawing Philipp over his left thigh, clasping the other over the younger’s legs to hinder him from kicking with them. The position left his bottom perched high on Lars’ thigh and his upper body draped over the couch.

“Maybe a heated bottom will help you to turn your memory on,” Lars said as he slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of Philipp’s underwear to pull them down, too, leaving the younger man’s backside mournfully unprotected.

It was less the fact that he was naked from his waist down than the fact that _anyone_ who would walk in would see him like this, over the lap of the man that he supposedly was seeing as his academical arch enemy, and that he could and would be heard, by passing-by students and colleagues alike, that had caused Philipp’s face to truly turn red.

Unsure what to do with his hands he reached behind him to grasp at the fabric of Lars’ trousers, a gesture that made the corners of the older man’s mouth turn up slightly. He wouldn’t lie, it was adorable to see and have him in that position. “So,” he went on, patting the backside cheeks that bounced back into his touch, “let me guess: you still have no idea.” When Philipp didn’t answer but kept quiet instead, Lars pulled him closer against his stomach and raised his right hand, shaking his head. “I’ll give you some time and something to think about, boy. You just wait.”

The first smack was always the worst, Philipp knew that very well. The sound of naked skin hitting naked skin halled loudly around the room and was just embarassing, and the position of being bend over someone’s lap like a naughty youngster... He squeezed his eyes together as Lars fell into a well- practiced, fast and punishing rhythm of spanking him almost immediately, switching from cheek and working his way from the very top of his backside down to the most sensitive spots. 

There was no warm up, no steady increase of strength and no real lecturing. It was obvious that Lars hadn’t planned on wasting any time, and Philipp grew uncomfortable fast, as the older man had used his entire strength right from the beginning, wincing and letting out little gasps and yelps when Lars’ hand would land on an especially nasty spot.

As Philipp couldn’t really kick his legs, he took to swaying his hips from side to side instead to get his backside out of the line of fire. Lars put an end to that attic rather soon by raising the leg that Philipp was bend over, and lowering the other, to place an array of smacks onto the top of his thighs, making him cry out. “Stay still,” the older man barked, smacking his hand down at the same time, “this is hardly the beginning, brat. Just _wait_ until you come home.”

Maybe it were Lars’ words, or the already burning pain in his backside which was steadily increasing, or, more likely, a combination of both that was enough to make the first couple of tears spill from Philipp’s eyes. He let go of Lars’ leg, which he had clinged to, to hide his face and his tears behind his hands as his body was being rocked forwards from the force of the spanking that the older brought onto him, trying to breathe around the sob that was building up in his chest.

 _He still didn’t know what he did wrong, at least not for certain..._ It must had been bad, considering how Lars laid into him.

“Do you remember now, baby?” The older man had stopped the assault of the ass in front of him, at least momentarily, this allowing Philipp to catch his breath with desperate gasps. His entire backside felt as if someone had worked on it with a blowtorch. Lars truly meant business, and Philipp knew that he wasn’t done yet.

“N-No,” he had answered meekly, sniffling audibly. Philipp heard Lars sighing above him, so as if he had wished that he had answered with a “Yes” instead, and he couldn’t see how the other had shaken his head before he had raised his punishing hand again. 

“Just know that you will be getting the brush tonight, baby.” 

The younger man was openly sobbing then, letting out a whole array of broken “No”s and shaking his head in a weak attempt to show his disagreement, but Lars didn’t sway from his plan. As much as he hated causing him pain, he knew that it was his duty to do so every time the younger would need a trip over his knee - and he definitely needed it then, as he had, most likely, did it intentionally and thus provoked a spanking.

Oh, Lars was very much aware that he would need to end spanking Philipp soon if he wanted him to be able to go through the rest of the day at all, as he had turned his bottom into a quite impressive shade of red. He spanked him a couple more times, focusing on the more fleshier parts of his bottom and doing so wisely as he took into consideration what the brat had coming for the evening. Even if smacks were then far from the hardest that he could’ve delivered, the younger had cried out at every one of the last hits, sobbing heartbrokenly. 

“Daddy please, I’m sorry! Daddy stop, I’m sorry!”

Lars almost hadn’t caught it, as Philipp had let it out between two harsher sobs, but he did catch it, and his chest clenched like it would do every time that he would be called that, and every time that they slipped into that game. Oh, so he _did_ know what he’d done wrong after all. Brat. The older man tilted his head, smiling to himself as he then brought much more gentle attention to Philipp’s backside, running soothing circles on the abused skin.

“Daddy I -”

“Sh, baby, don’t talk now,” Lars shushed him before he could’ve lost himself in his sobbed apologies, slipping his free hand underneath Philipp’s pullover to stroke his trembling back. “We’ll deal with it when you come home, baby.” He couldn’t do but smile when Philipp mewled and shook his hips, gasping when one of his reddened cheeks was pinched quite painfully.

“Don’t act out now, brat.”

“Sorry daddy.”

Lars sighed audibly and leaned back against the backrest of the couch, pulling his hand away and shaking it as he spoke while looking down at his handiwork. “Come, get up.” 

Philipp pulled his lower lip between his teeth when he stemmed himself into an upright position with the aid of the couch, gasping when the movement caused the skin on his backside to stretch in a painful way. With his vision blurry with tears and his hands covering his flacid private parts, he stood next to Lars, his gaze firmly casted downwards. 

The older man sighed again, almost wearily that time, as he himself stood. Lars cupped Philipp’s face and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears that escaped the younger man's eyes. “You know that I don’t like spanking you, baby.”

Philipp’s eyes fluttered close when Lars kissed his forehead and each corner of his mouth. His face was burning as hot as his backside, he was so embarassed. Humiliated, to have been spanked in his own office.

“Be good now, baby.”

“Yes daddy.”

The older man nodded and squatted down to pull the younger’s underwear back up, then his trousers, making Philipp wince when the fabric touched his sore skin, before raising back up and moving across the room to collect his books from the side table.

“Be good.”

With that Lars disappeared, and Philipp stared at the closed door, behind which the other had disappeared, for a moment, maybe even a few minutes, until he snapped out of it and bend down to pick up his shoes from where he had kicked them off. The fabric of his underwear and his trouser rubbed at his sore flesh, and he tried to hold back a sob when he walked to be back behind his desk.

How on earth was he supposed to finish his work now? He stalled a bit, standing behind his desk rather helplessly and switching his weight from foot to foot to find relief of his pain until he gingerly lowered himself into his chair, squeezing his eyes shut as his sore behind screamed at him to stand back up. _Fuck_. He should’ve known better - he _had_ known better and hated himself for thinking that he could pull it off without consequences.

He and Lars weren’t the most kinkiest of couples, but they had their structures and rules and one of said ruled was that Philipp wasn’t allowed to curse at the older man, something that he’d done just earlier, in a voicemail that he’d send to Lars shortly before his... visit. _"I told you a hundred fucking times that I have a late seminar on Thursday, Lars. Do you listen to a fucking thing that I tell you? Ever?"_

Philipp reached for his phone and opened up the front camera, though why he had even bothered to check he didn’t known. He looked like crap; his eyes were red from crying and rubbing at them, his face was blotchy and his lip red and puffy where he had bit at it during the spanking.

Sitting had been close to unbearable, but he had pulled through, Lars' promise of him getting the brush later that day very clear on his mind. 

He set his phone aside to pick up where he left off with his work before Lars’ appearance, though found himself unable to concentrate on the text in front of him. He was reading the same sentence for what could’ve been the fifth tome when he was distracted again, this time my his phone vibrating on the wooden table top.

The screen had lit up, announcing that he had received a text and one look confirmed that it was one from Lars.

_“How’s your ass doing, baby?”_

While he knew very well that it was Lars’ honest interest in his well-being, he couldn’t stop himself from getting mad at the way he asked, almost teasingly. How should his ass be doing, having just been spanked? “ _How’s your ass_ , yeah fuck you too,” he snarled at the phone with a mocking voice, deciding to simply go on the chat to let the message go to “read” before he buried his face in his hands again.

Lars could, and should, ease up on him. His week had been pretty much, and the next didn’t seem as if it would turn out any better. His project wasn’t coming along a smoothly as he’d like it to, he had a bunch of assignments which he still needed to grade before the deadline would expire and Lars, on top of it all, appeared to be out to either provoke a loss of temper out of him or find another reason as for why he could punish him. Philipp snorted and shook his head, _two can play a game._ Knowing how much the other hated to be ignored, he didn’t answer the message before he went back to reading, translating and fuming.

It didn’t take long for a second, _“Baby?_ ”, and a third text, _“Is everything okay?”_ , to come in, but he, again, merely went onto the chat to get rid og the notification - making sure to answer the other messages that he received, though, so Lars could see that he was ignoring him on purpose. He already had a paddling coming, so what was there to lose?

Lars soon got the hint, as the third message was the last for a good long while, allowing Philipp to actually do at least some work that he had wanted to get done for the day. He finished the first part of the prayer text, scanned it and send it to a colleague of his before resuming to answer the emails that had collected in his mail box.

Philipp did the typing on his tablet while standing in his office rather than sitting behind his desk, though.

The throbbing pain in his backside acted as a steady reminder of what had taken place, right here in his office, but also of what was yet to come, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from dreading his return home. The pain would only get worse, Lars, sadly, knew how the yield the brush excellently. He was rather glad when it was time for the seminar; his mind wouldn’t stop circling around the dreaded spanking anyway, and working with students would at least distract him a bit.

He left his phone on his desk in his office, simply because he didn’t want to be tempted to actually answer to Lars. Philipp didn’t known, of course he didn’t as he was blinded by his own madness, and didn’t see just what he was actively getting himself into.

While Philipp was busy with his work, Lars was getting even more angrier than he already had been. Furious even, which wasn’t something that happened often, considering the laid-back type that he was. Well, except when it came Philipp.

The students liked Lars for his easygoing attitude, for his inventiveness, but when came to his lover, his _brat_ , that light and careless attitude was gone. What was going on with him? Why was he impudent enough to ignore him so obviously? Did he do something wrong to trigger it? Well yeah, he spanked him. Quite hard and right in his office, too, in earshot of their colleagues and students.

Lars sighed and watched as droplets of coffee landed on the bottom of his cup. It was too late for caffeine, yes, but he needed it. Philipp wouldn’t be home for another half an hour or as and it wasn’t a lie when he said that he couldn’t wait until he could but him over his knee again. The brat deserved it; Lars even considered spanking him every night for a week, simply for his bland disrespect, but he wasn’t sure about that yet.

Something told him that Philipp was acting out for a reason, that there was more behind his behaviour, that something was bothering him that he couldn’t express. Lars sighed and retrieved his phone from the pocket of his trousers yet again; he’d send him seven text, _seven_.

The first three had been read while the others had gone unnoticed at all. He sighed, closed his eyes for a moment before he send yeta nother, _“Are you on your way, baby? Text me back if you read this, please. I’m worried.”_ And worried he was.

It wasn’t normal for Philipp to talk to and act towards him like that, sure, in the couple of years that they’ve been this close there have been arguments, with yelling and insulting on both sides, and if the argument’s appropriate Lars didn’t spank him for it. It wouldn’t be fair.

His cup was filled by then, the coffee machine had announced it with a _bing_ , and he added a spoonfull of sugar into the steaming black liquid before he moved out of the kitchen. The lecturer for early medieval history chose to sit and read in his study, which was the closes room to the entrance door of their flat, just in order to make sure that he wouldn’t miss his brat coming home.

He waited.

The half on an hour passed, then another, and when a new hours began Lars was fuming with anger. They’ve decided to put up rules for a reason, and Philipp had singlehandedly broken four of them just this day: no cursing, no back talking, no ignoring of messages and to let him know when he would be late for whatever reason and Lars considered to apply more than just the back of the heavy wooden hairbrush, which he had bought for that exact purpose, onto the younger man’s unlucky ass.

He had long stopped believing that this was merely an unfortunate series of accidental mistakes. Philipp was doing it on purpose, so much was sure. Another quarter of an hour passed and there was still no sign of the brat. Oh, he was in for it. The brat wouldn’t be sitting comfortable until next week.

Then after only God knew how long - about twenty minutes - Lars finally heard the tale-telling sound of a key being put into the lock and turned, and he walked into the corridor just in time to see the door being opened. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest and clenching his jaw. He truly had to control himself to not just surge forwards, grab the brat and put him over his knee right there on the spot, with the door of their flat still opened.

Philipp didn’t look at Lars as he closed said door behind him by kicking it close, and didn’t do so either when he hung his keys up on the key board and kicked his shoes off just as carelessly as he had kicked the door close. 

The younger carried a stack of books in both of his arms, which was significantly bigger that the one Lars had brough home with him, and the bag that he carried over his shoulder looked to be quite heavy too, as if he had brought his entire work life with him. Lars felt his blood begining to boil as the way that Philipp acted as if absolutely nothing had been wrong while ignoring him entirely at the same time, and he _really_ had to control himself to not smack him as he walked past him towards his own study.

“Living room, two minutes.”

Philipp froze in mid-walking, his heart beating a jackhammer’s beat against his rips, and he heaved the books a bit higher before he set into motion again and disappeared in his study. Of course had he felt Lars’ eyes on him the entire time, ever since he had opened the door, and he had almost flinched when he had walked past him, as it had felt as if he had presented himself to be smacked. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had seen him so pissed off, so angry, and... oh, he already felt like crying.

Something seemed to be sitting on his heart as well as on his mind, confusing him and causing him to act in a way that had earned him a spanking. More than one, actually.

Philipp sniffled quietly when he put the books he’d brought with him down onto his desk, his backside was still hurting and even while the pain hadn’t been as great as right after the spanking, he still didn’t want to be hit again. He would’ve needed to be suicidal to decide to go against Lars’ order, though, so he hung his back over the backrest of his chair before he slowly, almost reluctantly slow, crossed through the corridor and walked into the living room.

Sure, he _could_ have safe-worded out, and Lars would've accepted it, but... No, it really wasn’t an option.

Lars had been sitting on the couch when Philipp had entered, and the younger man’s mouth dried the very second that he looked at him. Lars’ face would’ve been more life like if it would’ve been carved into stone, and the older man’s eyes were narrowed and burning as they were firmly fixed on Philipp.

He swallowed hard. Neither of them actually said anything, but Philipp obeyed, with his head bowed shamefully, when Lars beckoned him over, moving to the older man’s side with tiny steps. Lars didn’t need to use his voice to be able to dominate him, and the realization had came when his world turned into an upside down one within a short second, the suddenness of it making him gasp.

Philipp gasped again, then kicking his legs, too, when his trousers and underwear were pulled down in one quick motion. His heart was racing in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly when Lars adjusted the position over his thigh to his liking. His naked backside was, just as it had been earlier that day, propped up high on Lars’ left thigh, though his legs weren’t constricted then, stretching out behind him instead.

He reached out to pull one of the decorative pillows to his chest, trying to calm his pulse when Lars took hold of his waist and drew him against his stomach in order for his hips to be immobilised, resting his right hand on the younger’s upturned backside.

Time seemed to have stopped when they lingered like this for a few moments; Lars looking down at Philipp with an unreadable expression on his face while Philipp kept his face firmly hidden in the depths of the pillow, the younger man was sure than the tips of his ears were burning bright red from embarrassment. Philipp couldn’t know that the reason as for why Lars wasn’t talking, or spanking him yet was that the older man didn’t trust himself enough to do it just yet.

It was a rule for Lars, one that he had put up himself, that he wouldn’t ever punish Philipp in anger, so he took his time to cool his head somewhat before starting the punishment. He patted the cheeks that were presented to him; they showed marks of the spanking that he had laid onto them earlier, red blotched that decorated the otherwise pale and unmarked skin, especially on the creases of Philipp’s sit spots.

They wouldn’t have established spanking as a thing, and a punishment, between them if they were completely adversed to it, but Lars favoured causing Philipp so much pain as little as Philipp liked to be spanked to such an extend. Lars knew that his brat much rather liked to receive spanks during sex than like this, but since he didn’t use their safeword, he would better get it over with.

Or so Lars told himself as he raised his hand; he felt Philipp tensing over his lap as he did so. The gasp that the younger let out at the first slap was low but strangled, and the rhythm that Lars chose for his hand this time was a lot slower but just as hard and punishing. He wanted the brat to feel every individual hit rather than to face the spanking in its completion, and he heard him gasp once more when Philipp must’ve realized that he was using his full strength from the very first smack on.

Lars allowed his hand to do the speaking for him for a good while, minutes in which the living room was filled with nothing but the sound of naked skin hitting naked skin, Philipp’s gasp and cries, latter which increased in volume the longer the spanking dragged on, and the sound of the younger’s feet scraping against the carpet. Considering that he had already been on the verge of tears before he had even stepped into the living room, it was no real surprise that Philipp’s eyes filled a lot faster than the usually would have.

Lars was putting his all into each and every single smack he landed on his backside and with him still being sore from the attention that he’d received earlier, it was much worse than it would’ve been under regular circumstances. The fact that Lars didn’t say anything only added to the swell of tears, for it made him feel like the worst kind of lover that there could’ve been, and Philipp soon had to raise his head from the depths of the pillow to gasp in shuddered huffs of air while Lars did everything but falter in his rhythm.

Oh, Philipp’s heart ached just as badly as his ass did, or, well, almost as badly, and when he threw a hand back, palm up, it was less to cover himself than to make Lars take him by the wirst. He was trembling from the effort that it took him to keep his sobs down, and every second that he spend like this, with his hand thrown back to cover his reddened backside, seemed to drag on into eternity because Lars didn’t react at first.

Philipp knew that he could safe-word out even then, but it wasn’t his goal. He just wanted Lars’ comfort, his entire being needed him.

Lars’ heart was beating strongly when he looked down at the younger man over his lap, though it was only partly due to the exertion that it took to spank him. Philipp throwing his hand back wasn’t something that he usually did, since he very well knew that it wasn’t allowed in their game, and he doubted that he did so because he had hit him too hard. Lars was angry, God yes he was, but that didn’t mean that would, or could, play the cold and non-forgiving disciplinarian the entire time. It had never been his style of punishing, especially not when it came to the sensitive and emotionally needy man his brat was.

The corners of his mouth twitched up for just a second as he took his left hand away from Philipp’s waist to enclose his wrist instead, pinning it against his side. “No hands, baby.”

He felt something clutching in his chest when the younger man let out a choked sound, which could’ve been interpreted as one of relief, so, as if he was glad that Lars had spoken to him at last. Lars clicked his tongue, he should have known. His brat was always so needy, so how could he have believed that it would be any different then?

“Daddy -” Philipp was cut off mid sentence when Lars resumed to spank him, just as hard and punishing as before.

“Ah ah, don’t think that you’re worming your way out of this by sweet talking me, brat. I’m still mad.” The older man raised the leg that Philipp was bend over and lowered the other, thus exposing the sensitive crease of his ass. “And disappointed.”

 _Ouch_. Philipp pressed his face deeply into the pillow again, the first sob finally escaping past his lips. Sure, Lars’ hand landing on his sit spots over and over again hurt like hell, of course it did, but knowing that he’d actually disappointed him... The dam was broken.

Lars kept a close eye on the state of the backside in front of him, the skin was turning into a deeper shade of red and Philipp yet had to have the meeting with the brush. He had since discarded the idea of belting him, too, as he felt that it would have been to much for his brat to bear, and he lovered his leg to shift the attention of his hand back onto the more fleshier parts of Philipp’s backside.

“I don’t know what’s driving you, baby,” he spoke as he let his hand fall in a still very much perfect rhythm. Since he’d been with Philipp, he’d gotten more better at it than he’d ever expected himself to be, “What’s torturing you so badly that you act towards me like you did today.” He paused his speech for a bit before concluding it, “But be sure of this:,” Lars brought his hand down even harder, earning him a short wail,” I won’t tolerate it.”

He could see how Phillip's back was heaving underneath the turtleneck sweater, which had since became somewhat of his adorable trademark, even for the students. It was especially ideal for hiding hickeys, too, and though they were muffled by the pillow, the younger's sobs reached his ears nonetheless. Lars would’ve stopped there if they only would’ve needed to deal with the voicemail, and he hardened his heart as he turned a bit to pick up the wooden hairbrush from where he had put it beside him onto the couch beforehand.

Philipp noticed him moving, and his arm struggled in the hold that Lars had on his wrist as his legs kicked a bit. “Daddy no,” the younger cried, his flow of words interrupted by a sob, “ple-ease don’t use that!”

“Hush,” was all Lars said as he tested out the grip he had on the instrument of choice, spinning it before bringing it down to tap its wooden back onto Philipp’s bottom as if deciding on the spot that he would like to hit first.

Lars raised his arm, though freezing when he heard the muffled insult that Philipp let out into the pillow, obviously not having expected him to be able to hear it. “ _What_ did you say?” He brough the brush down, with light speed and almost full force, square on the younger man’s backside.

Philipp bucked and cried out loudly, kicking his legs up to hinder Lars from hitting him further.

“Legs down!”, the older barked and Philipp’s sobs grew in volume as the brush landed on the back of his thighs next. He put his legs down as fast as he had kicked them up. “What did you say?”

“I- ow!”

“Don’t make me ask you a third time, boy. I’ve had it with you today.”

Lars paddled him in earnest until Philipp threw his head to the side, “Isaidfuckyou - owww! - daddy please I’m sorry!”

“Maybe I should soap your mouth, too,” Lars shook his head. “Such a naughty brat. Yes, I think a soap-filled mouth would help you find your lost manners.”

“Daddy,” Philipp sobbed, then without any composure whatsoever, and Lars almost stopped the paddling when he saw how the younger’s fingers of the hand that he held confined had stretched out in order to reach him, desperate to do so. He hardened his heart, however, and started another round, beginning high on one cheek before switching the brush’s attention to the other, paying special attention to the spots that would carry Philipp’s weight when the younger would be seated.

They would bruise, without doubt, as Lars could already see dark red oval shaped turn into a more purple shade. He decided that he would try and talk to him before applying the last round of hits.

“Will you tell me what’s going on, baby? Don’t think that I haven’t noticed how tense you’ve been the past few days, and it worries me. You rarely ever speak to me like you did today, baby.” He put the brush aside, back down onto the couch beside him, to be able to run his then free hand up and down the back of one of Philipp’s legs. The younger tried to answer, but was unable to do so as he was being shaken by deep sobs.

“Shhh,” Lars whispered,” shhh, baby. Try to calm down a bit.”

“H-Hurts.”

"I know it does, baby. I know it does."

It hurt him to see the man he loved so conflicted on the inside, and Lars continued to stroke his leg until Philipp managed to calm his breathing enough to answer, though his answer of "I do-on't know daddy" wasn't the one that Lars wanted to hear. He pulled his hand away from Philipp’s leg to spank him square across both cheeks, making him cry out in a manner that pulled at the strings of Lars’ heart.

“Wrong answer, baby.”

He went back to petting him, listening to Philipp’s sobs and sniffles while waiting to be given the correct answer, but when the younger began with a "B-but I _don't know_ ", Lars shook his head, even though the other couldn't see, and picked the brush back up. He sensed that he was close to finding it out, and he'd be damned if he would let him get away.

When Lars resumed to paddling Philipp, he used much less strength than he had before, the younger man's unfortunate backside cheeks were colored in an uniformly dark red and he could already make out the oval, purple bruises that would develop soon. Lars knew the he must be careful if he didn't want to break the skin, which he didn't, as it could happen fast when using a wooden implement.

Philipp drummed his feet onto the floor and kicked them into the air when he was spanked again, tears, sobs and whimpers escaping him freely.

Lars brought the brush down about half a dozen times, then pausing for a moment before beginning another round. "Come on, baby," he said, using a soft and gentle tone which stood in a vast contrast to the fact that he was still paddling Philipp with a non-faltering rhythm, “tell me.”

The younger man merely sobbed. His mind was empty; he didn’t know what kind of answer he could give that wouldn’t earn him further smacks. “I - I - ple-ase don’t -”, Philipp sobbed instead, attempting to get his backside away from the assault by trying to twist his was off Lars’ lap, an antic that the older man merely answered with a smack to each back of his thighs. Philipp froze, going riggid, before he broke, seemingly losing all the struggle and fight which had been inside of him as he downright melted over Lars’ lap, his legs hanging motionless and his upper body draped weakly over the seat of the couch.

Lars leaned over to put the brush down onto the coffee table and for the final time, not having the heart to continue the spanking. He had enough. “Baby... I want to help you, that’s all.”

Lars’ hand, the one which wasn’t holding Philipp’s wrist, ran circles in the small of the younger man’s back, avoiding to come close to the abused skin of his bottom. The brat wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for a few days - or so Lars was sure, while Philipp was sure that he would never, ever sit down again. Never ever.

“But you need to tell me what’s going on, okay? I can’t help you if I don’t know about it.”

"Daddy..."

Lars gently shushed his whimper, "Take your time, baby, but your ass won't be leaving my lap until you tell me."

Philipp sniffled pittyfully, and his attempt of freeing his wrist was rather a hint for Lars to continue to hold it instead of an honest try to get it out of his hold. "I'm sorry," the younger man whispered, and Lars rewarded him by running his left hand up his back and beginning to caress the soft hairs on the back of his neck.

"I know that you are, baby."

"I'm just... s-stressed," Philipp admitted rather helplessly.

Lars felt somewhat bad that he had to smile at his confession, while Philipp was cute at any time of day he was especially cute when sniffling and whimpering over his lap. He made a humming sound of agreement, "Yeah, I noticed that for a couple of days now. Go on, baby. What are you so stressed about?"

Philipp whimpered and rubbed at his eyes, his body being shook from the sobs that left him. "Daddy," he sobbed, a bit overwhelmed with answering the question but he also didn't want any more spankings so he wanted to answer. All that left him, though, were sobs and broken cries.

Lars tsked softly and used the thumb of the hand that was still holding Philipp's wrist enclosed to stroke the sensitive inside. "It's the project, isn't it, baby?"

Philipp sniffled a bit louder, "Uh-huh."

The older man couldn’t do but smile to himself again; his brat had been spanked into utter submission. It was endearing, really. "You're overworked, baby. I told you that you should -"

"No!"

Surprised by the sudden outburst Lars pulled his hand away from Philipp's neck to spank him twice, once on each cheek, making him cry out before resuming his open sobbing. Thank God their only neighbour was a very elderly and very much deaf woman. "You _do not_ cut me off and you _do not_ raise your voice against me, _do you understand?_ " Lars accentuated his words with an entire array of randomly placed hits, shaking his head as he did so.

He didn’t understand how he’d been blind enough to miss how much the brat needed his attention. They were both hard-working men, but Lars then knew that he would need to take extra care of him.

"Daddy," the younger drawled out, sobbing so harshly that Lars was beginning to grow concerned, "no mo-ore spankings. Please, I'll - I'll be go-od!"

He stilled his hand, “You’re forcing me to spank you, baby,” he spoke with a gentle voice. The evening had turned out so different from what he had wanted to plan for them. Lars had made the offer for him to go out for dinner to their favorite Italian, an offer which that had been answered with the voicemail which had brought all of this into motion. "I wanted us to have a nice evening, take you out for dinner, but now you're here over my knee for the second time today instead."

"I'll be good daddy I -"

"Philipp." The use of his first name made him freeze. "You're not being bad, baby. You're troubled and didn't know how else to let me know than through provoking me."

"Uh-huh."

"See? Now what's not going well with your project? You were so passionate about it, baby."

"I-I," Philipp coughed, trying to catch his breath, and while Lars stroke his back to help him calm down, the bright pain in his backside didn't allow him to do just that.

"Don't stress it, baby. We're in no hurry."

"I'm disa-disappointing everyone," the younger sobbed, "I should've finished a-a week ago but I haven't."

Lars couldn't do it any longer, he pulled Philipp up until the younger was kneeling between his parted legs and drew him into an embrace as soon as he was upright. He cupped one hand against the back of Philipp's head while wrapping his other arm around him, holding him as close as he only could have and he heard Philipp gasping, since the sudden change of mind had came as somewhat of a surprise. The younger closed his arms around Lars’ upper body, his hands holding onto the back of his dress shirt.

"You don't have to prove yourself with everything that you do, baby. Everyone knows you're one of the best. I know it too, baby."

Philipp sniffled quite pitifully and Lars closed his eyes when he was faced with his own mess of emotions. He loved the younger so much, something that he never would've expected when he had first gotten to know him, and having to admit that he failed to see that he was struggling almost broke his heart.

"Do you understand?"

Philipp nodded into the crook of his neck, whispering a low "Yes daddy".

Lars nodded, too. "I'll spank you every night for the next week, baby."

The younger man gasped and drew back to look up at the other with wide and vulnerable eyes, tears still falling from them. "But -"

"Sh," Lars silenced him, wiping at the wetness on his face. "It won't be a punishment, baby, and I'll only spank you with my hand."

“Then why do you have to s-spank me if it’s not a p-punishment?” Philipp's voice was still unsteady from his crying, his breath hitched by a sob.

"Because it helps, doesn't it baby?" He took Phillip's face into both of his hands and tipped his head back slightly, thus deepening the eye contact that they had shared. The younger's eyes had a shine in them, a shine thanks to the tears which swam in them and yet had to fall, and they looked up at Lars with so much trust and love that the older felt it going straight into his heart. They spoke without Philipp needing to open his mouth. "Deep down you wanted me to know, didn't you? But you didn't know how you could tell me, so you acted out, knowing that I would pull your pants down and spank you."

"I-"

"You didn't think about it, of course," Lars merely continued, smiling down at his brat. "You did it to see if I would react. You need to be spanked, baby, I should've noticed it earlier."

Philipp sniffled, a bit louder that time, "E-Every day, daddy?"

"Yes baby, every day for a week." Lars wiped at a freshly fallen tear, "But it won't be a punishment, okay? I promise you that. It's for your own good, I can't have you thinking so little of yourself." The younger nodded, leaning his cheek into the palm that was cupping it. Lars kissed his forehead before he pulled his hands away. "Go lie down, baby. I'll be with you in a minute."

Having kicked his lower garments off during the spanking Philipp stood, with the help of the older and quite wobbly knees, shambling the way to their bedroom dressed in nothing but his turtleneck sweater and socks. Lars chuckled to himself, wishing that he could've snapped a photo of it as it was just too adorable of a sight, and he stood up from the couch, carrying the coffee cup in one and the brush in the other hand.

He put the first into the dishwasher, disappeared into his office to stash the brush back into its place in the drawer of his desk and made a quick detour into the bathroom before he, equipped with a bottle of lotion they kept for that exact use, showed up on the doorstep of their shared bedroom.

A choked moan escaped him when he saw Philipp lying on his side of the bed, naked, his face buried in his pillow and Lars thought that he'd seen how he had arched his back a little, thus pushing his reddened ass into the air. _That little brat_.

While Lars had succeeded at willing any pooling of blood in his nether regions when he had spanked Philipp, it was then rushing there double the speed and he felt his trousers tenting before he even made it to the bed. "I brought you lotion, baby." He sat down on the mattress beside the younger, who then lifted his head to look at him from over his shoulder. Oh, he knew that look.

Then that he'd stopped crying Philipp was back to his old self, the one that just loved to tease Lars at every occasion. Philipp knew how jealous it made Lars when he would talk to students, mostly females, overly friendly, greeting them with his trademark bow and smile. That's why he was Lars' brat, though, and he was then teasing him by swaying his hips from side to side as he looked at him with glistering eyes. Lars kept his gaze, popping the lid of the lotion open without looking at it. The things that the brat could do to him...

Philipp gasped when the coldness of the lotion touched his sore skin, squirming his hips, and Lars tried to hold him still with a hand in the small of his back. He had whacked him pretty good, the bruises would most likely form over night and last for days and the fact that Philipp would feel them when he'd sit down, and be reminded of him at that, too, only caused Lars' trousers to feel almost painfully tight.

He still took his time with rubbing in the lotion, massaging the flesh and listening to his lover's hitched breathing and low moans when his fingers would dip into the crease of his ass, making their intent clear.

"Are you up for it, baby?", Lars asked, leaning down to place a series of kisses down the length of Philipp's back.

The younger laughed breathily, "With you? Always, daddy," and arched his back a bit more. The throbbing in his backside was still intense, of course it was, Lars had done a _superbe_ job, but it then was sending sparks of pleasure to the pit of his stomach, too.

Lars actually growled at Philipp's "With you?" and he pulled his shirt over his head before he stood in order to free himself of his pants, moving back onto the bed once he'd done so. He towered over Philipp, scooting forward until he could kiss the side of his neck and until his cock came to rest on Philipp's ass. The heat that radiated from was almost overwhelming, and Lars gasped when Philipp raised his hips against him, clearly demanding. "Brat," Lars half cursed, half gasped, shuffling backwards on his hands and knees to, once more, kiss down the younger's spine.

Philipp moaned, failing to silence it in the pillow, when Lars kissed each of his backside cheeks.

"Your ass is still pretty, even if it's beaten up, baby," Lars spoke against the sore skin he had just kissed. "Or especially if it's beaten up."

"Daddy..." Philipp's face heated up in from one second to another when Lars spread his cheeks apart, revealing his most private parts.

"Beautiful, you're so beautiful baby."

He hid his face in the depths of the pillow, moaning into it as Lars leaned down to swirl his tongue around the puckered muscle, pushing one, then a second lotion-lubed finger into him, working skilfully enough to reduce Philipp into a babbling and rutting mess within a short while. "Daddy _oh_ , oh fuck - ow!"

Lars spanked him, though rather lightly, with the hand which fingers weren't currently busy with scissoring him open. "No cussing, baby. The rules still count for you."

“ _Te requiro (I need you)_ ,” Philipp whined, and Lars full-on grinned when the brat slipped into the other language. It was cute, a lecturer for medieval history having a Latin kink but God knew that Lars would've lied if he would've said that it wasn't incredible sexy.

“ _Tu mea amara (You have my love)_ , baby. _Nemo nisi memet (No one but me)_.” He pulled his fingers out with an obscene squelch, not wiping them before he reached for his cock, tugging himself a few times before putting more lotion into his hand to spread it generously over his erected cock.

“ _Tu solus (You alone_ ), daddy.”

The shudder that went through Lars's body shook him fully; he was so damn lucky to have Philipp, and he told the younger to raise onto all fours before he aligned the head of his cock with Philipp's loosened entrance.

He splayed a hand in the space between his shoulder blades, pushing his upper body down until he was in the perfect face down ass up position. God, what a sight he was. Lars pushed into him, inch for inch, listening to Philipp's drawled-out gasps and moans until he was fully seated inside, his pelvis firmly pressed against the heated ass of the younger. He was hot and tight around him, too, and Lars ran his hands admiringly up and down Philipp's sides as he allowed the brat to get used to his cock inside of him. “ _Qui sis tam pulchram (You are so beautiful)_ , baby.”

Philipp laughed huskily, pushing his ass back once the burn from the penetration had passed. "It's _pulchra_ , not _pulchram_ , daddy," he purred, gasping and scrambling at the bedspread when Lars pulled out until only the head of his cock remained inside of him before snapping his hips and fucking back into him within a second, his fingers digging into his sides.

"Would you mind repeating what you just said, baby?" Lars repeated that action, chuckling when all Philipp brought out was a needy whine. "If that's what it takes to shut your naughty mouth up..."

Lars fucked him the same way that he had spanked him - hard, fast and with a skilled rhythm. This wasn't lovemaking, it was claiming, but judging by the way that Philipp pushed back into the movements of Lars' hips and moaned his name and an occasional "daddy" over and over again, he didn't really seem to mind it.

" _Me tangere_ _(Touch me)_ , please touch me I-"

Lars stopped when he saw how one of Philipp's hand was about to sneak his way to his cock and spanked him once on one cheek, almost toppling over when Philipp tightened his muscle around him in response. He leaned down to kiss the younger's sweat-stained back, "You'll be coming on my cock or you won't be coming at all, baby," groping at his ass as if the touch stood for a promise. " _Numquid gratiam_ ( _Be grateful)_ , you brat."

He circled his hips, thus brushing the length of his cock against Philipp's spot without pulling out, and kissed him again before he changed his position on the bed, not pulling out of the younger. " _Mea pulchra_ ( _My beautiful)_..." Lars sat back onto his heels after having wrapped both arms around Philipp's upper body, pulling him along so that Philipp ended up sitting in his lap.

The position allowed for Philipp to be penetrated deeper and he couldn't hide the wince when it hurt simply from happening so suddenly, pressure that it wasn't very comfortable to sit on his post-spanked backside. Both men were panting by then; Lars sucked a bruise onto the side of his lover's neck then that he was able to reach it, raising one hand to hold Philipp's throat like he knew he liked it, applying gentle pressure.

It had the wished effect, and Philipp reached around with one arm to hold onto the back of Lars' neck, moaning when Lars nibbled on the bruise that he had finished sucking into his skin.

The older man chuckled deeply as he pulled back to marvel at it, feeling a wave of possessiveness wash over him and the hand he had wrapped Philipp's middle to urge him to raise a bit onto his knees, giving him enough space to fuck back into him. It was clear that neither of them would last for much longer, the head of Philipp's cock was flushed dark pink and shining with pre cum and Lars already felt the familiar tension settle in his lower stomach. He kept one hand on Philipp's throat while he buried his other in the younger's hair, tugging and making his neck arch into an obscene curve.

"Lars, oh God," was all Philipp managed to bring out, his voice breaking since Lars brushed against his sweet spot with every thrust.

"I love you, baby." Lars closed his eyes when he felt himself approaching his peak, pressing his face into the side of Philipp's neck, sucking matching bruises onto it and continuing to pepper it with kisses as the movements of his hips grew more erratic. He managed two more, rather halfhearted thrusts before he came, pushing Philipp over the edge, too, by squeezing his neck and bruised ass at the same time.

The younger came with a sob, his thighs shaking so badly that they failed to keep him up any longer and Lars guided him back down onto the mattress, on his stomach, pulling his softening cock out of him in the process.

Lars plopped down on the mattress beside his lover as soon as his member was free, his sweat-stained chest heaving. He chuckled when he heard Philipp groaning beside him, the younger groaned and moaned as he stretched out his sore body, keeping his face turned away from Lars while he tried to catch his breath. It took the older man a few moments to get enough blood back into his brain to be able to think, and he groaned himself when he rolled onto his side, driving the fingers of one hand into Philipp’s hair.

He bit his lip when his eyes wandered down towards his lover’s backside, the skin from the very top of his ass down to the middle of his thighs had been dark red and splattered with purpling oval bruises; he had really gotten him good.

Philipp’s head went back down onto the pillow when Lars ran circles on his scalp, “Are you okay baby?” His breath caught in his throat when the younger switched onto a position on his stomach, Philipp never would’ve dared to even think about rolling onto his back. Lars’ eyes widened when he took in his red-rimmed eyes, his pinkened nose and his plush lips. As much as he hated to punish him, his brat would always look so beautiful afterwards.

“Yeah,” Philipp answered, and Lars could hear how dry his throat was. It must had been so from the crying alone. He scooted forwards to kiss his cheek. “I’ll go and get you something to drink, ok? Stay here.”

“I don’t think that I’ll be able to walk any time soon,” Philipp groaned, making the other chuckle.

“I’ll put some more lotion on you before you go to sleep. Remember that I’m still going to spank you tomorrow.”

The younger man huffed, “It’s still not fair, though,” he protested, though Lars could easily tell that it wasn’t a honest protest.

“Hush, you know that it is,” Lars snorted as he got off the bed, crossing the room in his very nude state. He heard Philipp whistling as he walked, and he threw him a look over the shoulder. “Cut the cheek, brat.” Lars disappeared into the kitchen to fill a glass with water, drowning it himself before refilling it and bringing it to Philipp. “Here, love.”

“Thank you.” Philipp scooted a bit aside so that Lars could sit down beside him, allowing the older man to run the tips of his fingers over the soreness of his behind.

“You really needed that, huh?”

The younger emptied the glass with big gulps before giving it back to Lars, laying his head down onto the pillow as Lars’ hand then went into his hair. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“You didn’t use your safe word,” Lars stated, his voice dropping a bit lower. “You could’ve, baby.”

Philipp reached back with one hand to take Lars’, “Of course I know that, Lars. I didn’t want to, and I won’t do it tomorrow.”

“It’ll be a sore weekend.”

“I deserve it, though.”

“That you surely do, you naughty brat.” Lars bend down to kiss his hair.”

“Lars?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry for ruining the evening.”

“It’s okay, baby. Taking care of you is more important than going out for dinner.”

“Can we...”

“Can we what?”

“Order a pizza from Antonio’s place instead? I’m pretty hungry.”

“I’m not sure if you deserved it after what you pulled off,” Lars said with a grin, his hand still in Philipp’s hair.

“I mean you can cook if you want to.”

The grin on Philipp’s face widened when Lars groaned that he’d be getting his phone. “I love you,” he said in a sing-sang voice as he watched the older man leave, calling after him, “oh, and don’t forget to ask for extra cheese!”

“You’re so lucky that I love you, brat.”

_Fin._


End file.
